She placed her hand on Elenyr’s waist—and white fire burst from Elenyr’s skin. Elenyr arched her back and screamed, the sound of agony echoing in the cavern of Blackwell Keep. Rune stumbled backward and the light died, revealing a searing callous over the wound, but no trace of the Dark.
“Sorry,” Rune said. “I didn’t know that was going to happen.”
“I’m okay,” Elenyr said, sucking in her breath. “I can feel it. The poison is gone.”
“What happened in there?” Sentara asked.
“We enjoyed a lovely drink with an old friend,” Shadow asked.
“Not the time to be you,” Elenyr groaned and accepted Lorica’s hand to rise. “We met Gendor, and he told us of a memory Serak stole from Senia. Apparently she discovered the greatest threat to Draeken, and then erased the memory.”
Lorica shook her head. “Is that possible?”
“We saw part of the memory,” Shadow said. “It’s certainly possible.”
“What happened in this memory?” Rune asked.
“Senia learned that one person can destroy Draeken. He is born of human, elf, and dwarven blood,” Elenyr said.
Lorica regarded them with doubt in her expression, but Elenyr’s scream had brought the golems out of the fortress, forcing them back up the tunnel. As Shadow took the lead, he chuckled to himself.
“It appears our path just shifted.”
Chapter 7: A New Mount
Draeken surveyed the devastated home, a frown creasing his features. The once beautiful estate in Keese lay broken, beams poking skyward, flames leaping into the sky as if they wanted to devour the clouds. The handful of survivors moaned as Gendor and Bartoth dispatched them.
Draeken shook his head. “They should have been here.”
“Who, my Lord?” the Lady Dentis asked at his side.
He spared her a look. She stood trembling, her beautiful green dress stained with blood and smoke, dirt covering her face. She’d been a powerful wife to a powerful lord, but only in public. In private, she’d been the ruthless Raven, head of a thieves guild expanding across the south. Few had known she’d also served Serak as an appendage to the Order of Ancients.
“The Hauntress,” he said dismissively. “She should have come. I made my plans clear so they would come.”
Serak approached and bowed his head. “Gendor is killing the last of the bandits. Bartoth is scattering the city guard.”
Shouts and screams came from outside the estate walls, followed by a brutal crash and the splintering of wood, the sound of an armored body bashing his way through the base of a building. Unstable from the conflict in the street, the structure collapsed, billowing dust into the smoky twilight sky.
“Why did they not come?” Draeken growled.
“Perhaps because they saw your intent,” Serak said. “Elenyr is crafty, and the oracle would have seen what you intended.”
“I know her capacity,” Draeken said, his lips twitching with irritation.
Elenyr would prove to be a problem. She’d survived three attempts on her life by a lightning mage, and her continuing guidance to the broken fragments kept them focused. In addition, Serak had seen the oracle and Tardoq headed east after they’d failed to stop Bartoth’s conversion to Draeken’s general. The two parties likely joined outside of Blackwell Keep. The oracle would have foreseen Draeken’s turning the Raven into a third general, and Elenyr should have tried to stop him. A perfect opportunity to rectify Serak’s biggest failure.
“Why did she not come?” he growled.
He’d hoped to end Elenyr for good. If she would have come to the Raven’s estate to stop him turning the Raven into his general, he would have been able to kill the woman, before she could thwart his plans. But she had not come.
“It seems they chose a different path,” Serak said.
“Obviously,” Draeken said.
Serak’s intelligence grated on Draeken’s flesh. The man had spent five thousand years preparing for Draeken’s arrival, preparing so Draeken could open the Dark Gate, yet he treated him like a fool.
But if Elenyr had not come to stop Lady Dentis becoming a third general, where would she have gone? What quest would she possibly deem more important? A thought crossed his mind and he smiled. If Senia had foreseen him coming to Keese—with Serak, Bartoth, and Gendor—it meant she had foreseen their absence in other locations.
“She seeks to stop the fourth general,” he replied.
“That means they have discerned her identity,” Serak said. “We must move quickly.”
“And we must divide,” he said.
“Master?” Serak asked. “I believe that is unwise. If we take separate ways, the oracle might learn that we are alone.”
“That is my hope,” he said. “Elenyr must die, and she will not attack unless she sees a chance of victory.”
“But if we separate, she could kill you,” Serak said.
“You think me vulnerable?” Draeken laughed, the sound causing the Raven to shudder and look to the exit. “She cannot harm me, not anymore.”
His amusement faded into a scowl. Five thousand years, trapped inside the fragments, caged by Elenyr’s teachings of protecting others. His might had been used to repair walls, grow plants, end conflicts, while his identity was known by only a few. He deserved better. The people of Lumineia should tremble at the mention of his name.
